


call me old fashioned

by vintagecitrus (finelyagedlemons)



Category: Hyakujuuou GoLion | Beast King GoLion
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, honestly even with all the smut it errs on the side of fluff, i can't help it these two are so sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 20:42:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10704708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finelyagedlemons/pseuds/vintagecitrus
Summary: “C’mon, lemme see that cute smile,” he insists. Akira’s ears burn pink, and he moves to cover his face with both hands. “Nooo,” Isamu whines softly, pushing Akira’s arms out of the way. Akira is beaming, eyes screwed shut as more soft laughter escapes him. It’s the most perfect thing Isamu has ever seen.





	call me old fashioned

**Author's Note:**

> would you believe this was kind of based on a meme, a little bit

Isamu leans over Akira, placing his hands on the captain’s knees. He grins, face flushed red, and murmurs, “Man, I love your thighs.” Akira stares down at him, blush creeping into his own cheeks.

“So thick and strong,” he goes on, admiring the pale expanse of skin between Akira’s legs. Diving in between them, Isamu adds, “Please, crush me with them.”

Playfully, the muscles of Akira’s thighs tense around Isamu, lightly squeezing him between them. He suddenly releases Isamu, letting his knees fall to the sides, and stifles a laugh with his hand. He looks at a bewildered Isamu with eyes full of adoration. Isamu meets his gaze and melts. He reaches up and places a hand on Akira’s wrist, gently tugging it away from his face.

“C’mon, lemme see that cute smile,” he insists. Akira’s ears burn pink, and he moves to cover his face with both hands. “Nooo,” Isamu whines softly, pushing Akira’s arms out of the way. Akira is beaming, eyes screwed shut as more soft laughter escapes him. It’s the most perfect thing Isamu has ever seen.

“Don’t stare,” Akira giggles, weakly swatting Isamu’s hands away from his own.

“But I can’t help it,” says Isamu. He bends down and presses a kiss to Akira’s collarbone. “I love you.”

Akira shivers. “I love you, too.”

Isamu peppers Akira’s chest with kisses, traveling south with every touch of his lips to skin, and Akira hums under his breath, barely audible, at the feeling.

“Hey,” Isamu murmurs, sitting up. He’s kneeling between Akira’s legs, looking a little bashfully at his boyfriend. His eyes dart down between Akira’s thighs, questioning as they return to meet the captain’s gaze. “Can I, uh, suck you off?”

Akira blinks, eyebrows going up a little. “I, um. I mean, if you want to, I certainly wouldn’t complain.” He looks away, blushing. “Didn’t you want me to, uh, fuck you, though?”

Isamu sticks his tongue out. “I’ll just have to make sure you don’t come early, then,” he teases.

A grin spreads across Akira’s face. “Then by all means,” he says, easing his knees apart a little further.

Being sure to make a show of licking his lips, Isamu tugs down the waistband of Akira’s underwear. Akira lifts his hips up to make the job a little easier, and Isamu chucks the briefs over his shoulder unceremoniously. Akira can’t help but laugh a little. Isamu’s heart jumps.

Isamu wraps his fingers around Akira’s dick and moves slowly, watching his expressions to figure out where to focus his attention. With Akira’s little gasps and words of encouragement, Isamu finds a rhythm that has Akira grasping at the sheets.

“Mmm...are you ready?” Isamu asks, leaning down so Akira can feel his breath on the tip of his cock.

“Yes,” Akira breathes, “yes, please, yes.”

Isamu’s lips meet Akira’s head, and Akira draws in a sharp breath at the contact. Isamu pushes down and drags his tongue along the underside as he goes, pinning Akira’s hips to the bed with one arm when the Black Lion’s pilot bucks reflexively.

He makes note of where his mouth travels and where presses of his tongue make Akira sigh and moan, learns to focus on just where to graze his teeth ever so gently to send a shiver of pleasure – and a little bit of fear – up Akira’s spine. It’s awkward at first, and for a while Akira seems to alternate between begging for more and frantically demanding _less_.

But slowly, slowly, Isamu settles into a rhythm. Akira’s fingers find their way into Isamu’s hair, tugging lightly to guide his movements. The grip draws a soft moan out of him, and the vibrations of the sound are not lost on Akira’s cock as it twitches in Isamu’s mouth. Isamu’s eyes slide shut.

With his hand, Isamu makes up for what his mouth can’t take. Squeezing and bumping against his nose, his fingers mirror the bob of his head, and it’s not long before Isamu tastes the bitter tang of pre-cum.

“Shit, Isamu,” Akira pleads, “Don’t stop.”

Isamu, truly a paragon of following instructions, leans back, admiring the trail of saliva that bridges the gap between his lips and Akira’s cock as he pulls off. Akira whines at the loss of contact, the sudden coolness of the air on the sensitive skin. Isamu grins.

“Something wrong?” Akira stares down at him, concerned.

“No, just didn’t want the fun to end too soon.” Isamu gives Akira’s cock one last kiss, circling the tip once with his tongue before pulling away again. He watches Akira’s eyebrows knit together, frustrated beyond belief as a shaky breath escapes him.

“You’re an asshole.”

“You love it.”

“I do,” Akira concedes, and the fingers in Isamu’s hair comb softly through it, releasing him from their loose grip. Isamu leans into the touch, eyes sliding shut for a moment. Sincerity dances on the corners of Isamu’s wry smile. He rests his head against Akira’s knee.

He’s never looked so content before.

“Hey,” Akira prompts, pushing Isamu’s bangs to the side. Isamu opens his eyes and looks up at him, head still leaning on his leg. “How, um, do you want to do this?”

“What do you mean?”

Akira looks away, pink dusting his cheeks. “Well, I was wondering if you had any thoughts on what position you wanted to try, and if you wanted me to prep you, or if you’d rather do it yourself…” He meets Isamu’s eyes. The bastard is beaming again, devilish and eager.

“Call me old fashioned, but I wanna get a good look at you our first time, so how’s missionary sound?”

“I have to agree.”

“As for your second question, I think I’d love nothing more than your fingers inside me right about now, if you’re willing.” Isamu stands up, leaning forward to kiss Akira. Onto his lips, he murmurs, “Though I’ll gladly do the work myself if you’d like.”

Akira shudders, letting Isamu slowly push him back onto the bed, still kissing him. Isamu’s lips are slick with the same saliva that’s cooling tantalizingly on Akira’s dick. Akira hums, putting his hands on Isamu’s waist and urging him with gentle pushes to turn over.

Isamu takes the hint and reverses their positions. In a fluttering heartbeat, Akira’s knees straddle Isamu’s hips, and their chests press together, lips somehow still locked in their kiss.

Akira has to be the one to break it, and he does so almost painfully. Isamu’s teeth catch his lips before releasing him, and Akira laughs, breathless.

He climbs off of Isamu, and there’s no graceful way to do it, but he decides granting Isamu a spectacular view of his ass as he retrieves the lube from his nightstand should make up for it.

He’s certainly not wrong.

And then he settles down between the spread of Isamu’s legs, pouring lube onto his fingers and feeling a smirk tug at his lips when he sees Isamu’s face as he scissors them delicately in front of him. The lube drips and webs between his fingers, running into his palm. He teases the air like that for a moment, almost mesmerized by it, before finally, finally letting Isamu have it.

Air rushes in through Isamu’s teeth at the cool touch, but it finds its way back out as a moan quickly enough. Akira starts with just one finger, but it’s not long before Isamu demands more. Akira’s fingers are skilled but unfamiliar, and it’s not until he adds a second that he tracks down Isamu’s prostate and rubs at it gently.

Isamu whines, trying to grind down into his touch, needing more than Akira is giving, but Akira just twists his wrist and spreads his fingers apart, ignoring Isamu’s squirming.

Akira hardly notices how heavy his own breath is coming in until Isamu says, “This is killing you, huh?”

He shuts him up with another twist of his fingers inside Isamu, and huffs, “Are you ready for me?”

“Love, I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

Isamu scoffs. “Just fuck me, sweet stuff.”

Akira’s reply is a wordless show of tearing open packaging and rolling a condom slowly, slowly down his neglected cock. Even the faint brush of his hand makes him bite his lip.

Slowly, he eases into Isamu, pushing the latter’s legs apart more and sighing deeply. Isamu’s head falls back onto the pillow, and he lets out a breathy groan.

Every motion sends sparks through Isamu’s nerves, and the way Akira moves is so exquisitely thorough, like he doesn’t just want to fuck Isamu but truly savor every centimeter along the way. It’s torture, sweet, blissful torture, and when Akira wraps a hand around Isamu’s cock and squeezes before stroking just as slowly as he’s moving, Isamu chokes back a sob.

The pace picks up almost undetectably as Akira’s self control wavers, and he puts more power into each thrust. Isamu licks his lips and feels his breathing quicken. He meets Akira’s eyes – they almost look glazed over now, consumed with the long-awaited sensation – and cups Akira’s cheek with his hand.

“God, you look beautiful,” he says, more in love than he ever thought he could be with the spill of Akira’s hair over his shoulders. Akira’s eyes are trained on his now, fond and full of pleasure and so damn _happy_ Isamu can hardly take it.

And then there’s the way Akira’s lips are still flushed red and swollen from their kiss, slightly parted and shiny with spit. He smells like sweat and musk and flowers, like a forest Isamu wants to get lost in for the rest of his life. He isn’t even sure that makes sense, but he’s too far gone under Akira’s weight and from the way he’s fucking him now that he’s not sure he cares, either.

Isamu is rocking back into Akira’s thrusts now, meeting his force and driving the Black Lion pilot’s cock further inside him, ripping moans out of Isamu’s throat before he has time to register he’s making any noise at all. He grips the sheets, babbling Akira’s name amid pleas for “more, harder, please, faster, Akira, please!” and the sound of his first name being cried out with such desperation makes Akira helpless but to give Isamu what he asks for.

It’s over all too soon – somehow it always is – and Akira comes, a shuddering mess of gasps and little moans and efforts to say Isamu’s name that get abandoned halfway through. He grips Isamu’s cock, still inside him, and drags him along through his orgasm too. Isamu’s is much louder, voice bouncing off the walls unashamedly.

They both thank every god they can name that the walls are soundproof.

After disposing of the condom and cleaning the cum off Isamu’s chest, Akira returns to a sleepy Isamu, who latches onto him almost immediately. The Red Lion pilot’s words slur together as he runs fingers over Akira’s collarbone and says, “That was incredible.”

Akira smiles, soft and content. “I’m glad you agree.”

“You look beautiful,” Isamu says again, the words tumbling out without a thought.

“I wish you could’ve seen your face,” Akira laughs. “I’ve never seen someone look so serene getting fucked like that.”

Ismu hides his face. “It was really nice, okay?”

“It must have been.” He pauses, looking slyly over at the man clinging to his body like a pillow. “Maybe you ought to return the favor sometime and show me what it’s like.”

“Is that a challenge?”

Akira laughs again. “Maybe.”

Isamu joins him, chuckling dazedly. “Might have to take you up on that, then.”

“I can’t wait.

**Author's Note:**

> writing this fic made me gay. i'm gay specifically because of this fic


End file.
